


Cat Parenting (and Other Meet-Cutes)

by singingwithoutwords



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (someday anyway), Alpha!Bucky, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Idiots in Love, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, also some cats, ballerina!tony, omega!Tony, rock star!bucky, so many meet cutes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 07:10:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singingwithoutwords/pseuds/singingwithoutwords
Summary: Of all the ways Bucky could have finally gotten a chance to speak to his crush, why did it have to be his cat getting Tony's cat pregnant?





	Cat Parenting (and Other Meet-Cutes)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DreamcatchersDaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamcatchersDaughter/gifts).



> I discovered writing this that I have no idea what actually counts as pining. @.@

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

Bucky, in the act of wrestling his key back out of the front door’s finicky lock, glanced up.  “Can you at least wait until I’m all the way in the apartment before you stop making sense?” he asked.

Steve crossed his arms and raised one eyebrow, all five feet and four inches of him radiating smug amusement.  “Nope.  This is revenge for you not tellin’ me yourself, jerk.”

Bucky sighed, finally winning back his key, and step far enough inside to close the door.  “Make sense.  Now.”

Steve uncrossed his arms and held out a folded sheet of paper.  “Considering how often I’ve had to listen to you pine over the guy,” he said, “I’d’ve appreciated being told you finally managed to bag him.”

Bucky frowned, taking the paper.  It was plain computer paper, folded into quarters, with a piece of black tape on one edge that had probably held it to the door until Steve found it.  “I truly, honestly, sincerely, et cetera, have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing while you’re gone for hours ‘looking for Winter’?” Steve continued, grinning.  “Cat’s already out of the bag, so spill: is it everything you dreamed of?”

Bucky sighed, unfolding the piece of paper.  The writing on it was sharp and even despite the lack of lines:

 

_Dear 4E:_

_Congrats, you’re gonna be a dad!_

_Hope you’re prepared to pay child support, asshole._

_\-  4C_

 

There was no name, but Bucky didn’t need one; he was far more aware than he should be of who lived in 4C.  4C’s single occupant was a stunningly gorgeous omega named Tony Stark, who did what Bucky was pretty sure was some form of Extreme Yoga on his balcony every day.  He was fit, handsome as hell, mind-bogglingly bendy, and completely unaware that Bucky existed, because the closest they’d ever come to interacting was that one time Winter took advantage of Tony coming into the building to make a run for it.  Bucky had been too preoccupied with catching his damn cat to do more than toss a hasty apology over his shoulder.

“Hate to break it to ya, Stevie,” Bucky said, sighing, “but there’s been some kinda misunderstanding here.  I still haven’t even said hey to the guy, much less slept with him.”

“Then how’d you knock him up?” Steve demanded.

“I didn’t!”

“Then explain this!”

“I-” Bucky paused, feeling something brush up against his leg.  He looked down to find Winter rubbing white cat hair all over his calf, and frowned.  The cat looked even smugger than Steve had a minute ago.  In fact, it looked remarkably like Bucky tended to after he’d just gotten lai- “You little furry bastard.”

Winter looked up at him with innocent blue eyes that were _lies_ , okay, _pure, vicious lies_ , and meowed.  It was the exact meow Bucky would expect of a little escape artist who’d been making time with a pretty long-haired lady who liked to lounge on the glass top of a little wrought-iron table in the sun while her owner did advanced Extreme Yoga nearby.

“What did Winter do?” Steve asked.

“Belonged to an ass who lied through his teeth when he swore the furball was fixed,” Bucky said, sighing.  He of all people should have known better than to trust anything Rumlow said, but they were barely making rent with the four of them most months, and a vet visit had been low priority when they’d thought Winter was already neutered.  “Explains why it’s World War Three keeping him inside, at least.”

Steve sighed right back, shaking his head.  “Looks like we need to make an emergency vet visit,” he said, patting Bucky’s shoulder consolingly while Winter padded figure eights around Bucky’s ankles.  “No new microwave this month, I guess.”

“Do you see the sacrifices we make for you?” Bucky asked Winter.

Winter continued to figure-eight and purr.

 

* * *

 

There was another note on their door the next morning.  It was also addressed to 4E and signed 4C, and consisted of a date, time, and address and a vague threat of consequences if they didn’t show.

The date in question was the same day as their next gig, three hours earlier.  Steve looked up the address, and it was within walking distance of the club their gig was at, meaning it should be more than do-able.

Clint disavowed any connection to Winter and insisted he was not on the hook for this.  Steve had class and would barely make it to the gig, meaning no way could he manage the meeting.  Thor made sure to point out he would have loved to come along, but he needed to be with Steve in the very likely chance he tried to start a fight with someone twice his size.

That left Bucky entirely on his own two days later, staring at one of the swankiest clubs he’d ever contemplated setting foot in.  It wasn’t truly high-end, but it was definitely not the sort of dive Bucky was used to frequenting.

At this time of day there was no line or bouncer, and Bucky was able to walk right through the front door.  The inside was just as swanky as the outside, with polished wooden tables against the walls, a sunken dance floor the size of Bucky’s entire apartment, a bar that would have looked right at home in any mansion, and a full-sized stage.  It was also completely empty.

Bucky hesitated, not sure what to do next, then all but jumped out of his skin as a woman seemingly appearing in front of him, holding a clipboard and frowning.  She was dressed business professional in an all-white suit with a skirt and heels that put her at an even height with Bucky.  Her makeup was minimal and suited her perfectly.  Her hair was ginger and pulled back in a high tail that fell past her shoulders.  She was looking at Bucky in a way that said with no uncertainty that she was not impressed.

“Can I help you?” The woman asked, in a surprisingly unhostile voice.

“Um…” Bucky said.  “I’m here to meet someone?  Tony Stark?”

The woman glanced down at her clipboard.  “4E?”

“That’s me,” Bucky agreed.

“Follow me.”  She turned on her high heel that probably cost more than Bucky made in a year and set off.

Bucky obediently followed her across the club to the bar, then through the door behind it.  The door led to a short hallway, which led to a staircase, which led to some sort of private lounge area full of low red chairs and black wood-and-glass tables.

Sitting in one of the chairs with his feet on a table was Tony.  He was barefoot, wearing jeans and an oversized Air Force Academy hoodie, doing something on a smartphone with one hand and petting the long-haired smoke grey cat in his lap with the other.

“Tony, 4E is here,” Bucky’s escort said.  “Can I go back to my real job now?”

Tony looked up, smiling at her.  “You’re the one who said I was welcome in your club any time.”

“I meant during normal hours of operation.”

“But you didn’t _say_ that, Pepper,” Tony protested, still grinning.  “You know you have to actually _say_ things to me.”

‘Pepper’ rolled her eyes and huffed, but Bucky could tell she was fighting a smile.  “I’m going to go do actual work now,” she said, stooping to kiss Tony’s temple.  “Behave yourself.”

“Love you,” Tony said, turning to Bucky as Pepper headed back for the stairs.  “So you’re 4E.”

“James Barnes,” Bucky introduced himself.  “But most everyone calls me Bucky.  I take it this is the mother-to-be?”

“Indeed she is,” Tony said proudly.  The kitty in question stared up at Bucky for a moment before dismissing him as unimportant and bending to the exacting task of cleaning her paws.  “Pull up a chair while I decide how much to yell at you.”

Bucky obediently sat, sighing.  “Yell away.  I can’t apologize enough for this, and it’s entirely my fault.”

“Hell yes, it is,” Tony agreed.  “Do you even have a permit for an unspayed animal?”

“No, but I didn’t know he wasn’t spayed.”

“”How do you not know whether or not your cat is fixed?”

“The guy we got him from said he was.  Brock Rumlow, you probably don’t-”

“I am aware of the existence of Brock Rumlow.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, wondering if he could get away with patting Tony’s shoulder.  “No one should be burdened with that.”

Tony, in Bucky’s opinion, had the perfect laugh.  It lit up his entire being, sounded like pure joy, and dashed any and all hope that Bucky would be getting over his little crush anytime soon.

“So that really was Winter?” he asked once he’d laughed himself out.  “I’d wondered.”

“You know my cat?”

“Yeah, Brock had him while we were dating.  I’m glad he’s got new owners, even if they are stupid enough to take Brock at his word.”

“We kind of didn’t know him well enough to know not to trust him?” Bucky offered up.  It was really their only defense, to be honest.

“Most people, when they get a new pet, take said pet to the vet.”

Bucky squirmed a little, staring at the table to avoid Tony’s eyes.  “We kind of couldn’t really afford it?  The pet deposit took care of most of our savings, and we’re trying to save up, but Thor keeps breaking stuff, and there was Steve’s new meds, and we thought Winter was fixed already, so...”

“Maybe you should look into getting a sugar daddy,” Tony suggested.

“You offering?” Bucky asked.

“You’d really take advantage of a poor innocent omega like that?” Tony mock-demanded, clutching at imaginary pearls over his chest.  “My mother warned me about alphas like you, you know.”

“Did she warn you about our cats, too?”

Tony laughed again, quieter and with a bit more restraint, but no less beautiful.  If this wasn’t a one-time thing, he was so screwed.

 

* * *

 

James “everyone calls me Bucky” Barnes left, and for a minute Tony just sat there and tried to process what had just happened.

He’d had a, quite frankly, _ridiculous_ crush on 4E ever since he and his buddies had moved in.  That crush had only gotten worse in recent months when he’d gone and gotten himself a cat.  It was unfair for alphas in general to have cats, never mind drop-dead gorgeous alphas who were completely unaware that Tony existed.

And now, said incredibly attractive cat-owning alpha was forever going to think of him as the guy whose cat his cat had knocked up because Brock Rumlow was a liar.  Why did that asshole have to keep screwing him over when they weren’t even dating anymore?

Also, what in all mythical hells of all religions had possessed him to actually admit Brock was his ex?  Who did that?

Tony sighed, letting his head drop back against the chair.  Ana mewed in his lap but made no other comment.

“Baby girl,” Tony informed her, “your daddy is an idiot.”

He’d been so happy to finally have an excuse to talk to 4E, and at the same time so terrified of doing the actual talking, that he’d panicked and initiated contact in probably the worst way possible.  Thank God Howard had been so quick to get on board with the whole ballet thing: Tony would have been an absolute disaster of a businessman.

Ana started to purr, and Tony sighed again.  “Don’t get too comfy down there, Missy- I still have rehearsal, which means you’re going home.”

“So did it go well enough that you can concentrate on rehearsal without stressing, or so badly you want to concentrate on rehearsal to avoid stressing?”

Tony smiled in spite of himself, opening his eyes to find Pepper standing over him.  “I’ll let you know once I figure it out,” he promised.

“I look forward to it,” Pepper said, smiling back.  “You’d better get going, or you’ll be late, and you know I won’t protect you from Mistress van Dyne.  I’ll have Bruce escort Ana home; she likes him.”

“She likes you better.”

“Too bad- I have a business to run.”

“Mean,” Tony accused, willingly accepting the absent kiss she planted on his forehead before lifting Ana off his lap.  “Love you.”

“Love you, too.  Get out of my club.”

 

* * *

 

The fixing of Winter was an experience.  One Winter was not at all happy about.  Bucky privately suspected it was at least partly because Winter got just as fed up with Clint’s Cone of Shame jokes as Bucky, in as short a timeframe.  If Clint wasn’t such a good guitarist, Bucky would seriously consider kicking him out for this.

Luckily, Bucky was saved from kicking him out anyway and ruining the band by Steve threatening to feed the cone to Clint if he didn’t knock it off.  Since Steve was a great example of how small people were just vessels of concentrated rage, Clint shut up fast.

Somehow - Bucky would probably never quite be sure how - Tony wound up paying Winter’s vet bills.  Which somehow included getting him up to date on all his shots.  So they were able to get that new microwave after all, and Bucky’s crush found new heights to soar to, much to his roomies’ collective exasperation.

 

* * *

 

Tony usually split his time pretty evenly between his apartment and the studio.  He didn’t have what most people would consider a life outside of dancing, and so had no real reason to go anywhere else.  He took an hour or so once a week to hang around Pepper’s club, so she didn’t feel neglected.  He would have spent time with Rhodey, his sib from another crib and platonic soulmate, but sneaking onto military bases for social visits was kind of frowned on, especially when the base in question wasn’t in America, so Pepper and her genius bartender Bruce were the sum total of Tony’s social life.

Natasha, as a member of the same ballet company as Tony, did not count.

“Do you think paying his vet bills was too much?” Tony asked suddenly.

Bruce, in the middle of mixing up apparently _the_ most complicated cocktail known to man, didn’t even bother glancing in Tony’s direction.  “For you?  Not really.  For a normal person?  Probably.”

Tony groaned, pressing his forehead against the bar top.  “We haven’t even gone on a single date and I’ve already fucked up.”

Bruce finished his current order and delivered it, then walked back down the bar and patted the top of Tony’s head.  “Tony, if you paying his vet bill scares him off, it would never have lasted,” he pointed out.  “Either he can handle it, in which case no harm done; or he can’t handle it, in which case it’s good you found out now.”

“I love you,” Tony said.  “In a strictly platonic, non-stalkerish kind of way.”

Bruce had never, to Tony’s knowledge, actually laughed.  But he did have this thing where he exhaled with severe amusement which was kind of like laughing, and he did that now.  “Ditto.  Do you want a drink, or do you have rehearsal?”

“We open in less than a month.  I always have rehearsal.”

“You should probably head out, then.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“I’m not going to be the one who tells Jan her prince isn’t showing up,” Bruce warned him, exhaling with amusement again.  “Off with you.”

Tony whined, but obediently stood up.  If he didn’t show for rehearsal without a damned good reason, Janet van Dyne was the kind of company mistress who would _give_ him a damned good reason to miss the next one.

 

* * *

 

Rhodey wasn’t in town often, and usually not for long, so as soon as he landed two weeks post First Meeting Fuck-Up, he and Tony were stuck together at the hip.  Rhodey was the only member of the public who got to see the company rehearse, because it was that or Tony just wouldn’t show up until Rhodey’s leave ended.

He was in town for the weekend, just long enough to have one night out together and maybe a couple mature, socially-acceptable lunches.  Tony let Rhodey pick their poison this time, and they wound up at a rundown little club where a band called Yggdrasil was playing.  They were apparently Rhodey’s new favorite.  Tony was pretty sure he had an alpha-crush on the drummer.

Not that Tony minded.  Anything that made his honeybear happy made him happy, too, and he was never one to turn down good music.  He couldn’t even truthfully say he minded when the stage lights went up and he immediately spotted Bucky Barnes in the band.  It’s not like there was any harm in looking, right?

Rhodey, who knew Tony better than Tony knew himself sometimes, realized what was going on almost immediately.  “Didn’t you swear off alphas entirely after that thing with Rumlow?” he asked.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t _look_ , honeybear,” Tony said, sighing.

“Pretty sure you wanna do more than just _look_.”

“Just because I _want to_ doesn’t mean I _will_ ,” Tony protested, pouting.  Rhodey just kept giving him a look that said very clearly that they both knew for a fact that yes, actually, he definitely _would_.  “Besides, he doesn’t even like me.”

“How do you know?”

“He didn’t flirt back,” Tony said, shrugging.  “So I maybe paid some of his bills, but he keeps promising to pay me back.  He’s obviously not interested in me.  So I can want all I want; it’ll never go anywhere.”

“He’s obviously an idiot, then,” Rhodey grumbled, but let it drop.

They went back to watching the show in silence.  Rhodey had a thing for blondes, so his attention bounced between the drummer, the keyboardist, and the acoustic guitarist; Tony couldn’t tear his eyes away from Bucky.  At the end of the evening, he honestly could not recall a single song from the entire set, just the way Bucky’s hips had moved to each one.

 

* * *

 

Bucky wasn’t a big fan of ballet, to be honest.  But Pietro’s sister was a ballerina and he never missed her shows.  He usually went with Thor, who actually enjoyed it, but Thor had to play reverse bodyguard for Steve so he didn’t punch one of his teachers, and Bucky had been all but physically dragged along in his place.

The theater wasn’t too fancy or too big, but it was a big step for the company according to Pietro.  Their seats were good ones, with a great view.  Bucky resolved to at least _try_ and enjoy himself.

The story was kind of hard to follow, but if Bucky was getting the gist of it right, there was a redhead whose dad and/or boss was played by a guy probably a year older than her at most, and he was maybe the bad guy?  Someone was hatching _some_ sort of scheme, if the music was any indication.

Either way, Male Authority of Indeterminant Role danced himself off the stage after a minute, and what Bucky supposed was the Love Interest danced into sight.

“Oh God.”

Pietro glanced sidelong at Bucky, then back at the stage, and made a noise of disgust.  “Please be joking,” he said, because he knew Bucky well enough to know what he was staring at.

“Oh God,” Bucky repeated, finding himself incapable of saying anything else.  Watching Tony do Extreme Yoga on his balcony was one thing; watching him do Extreme Yoga in tights with background music while throwing himself and other people through the air was going ot be so much worse.  He wasn’t going to survive this.

Pietro groaned.  “Why is your taste so bad?” he asked.  “Why not the redhead?”

“Not my type and you know it,” Bucky answered, watching Tony lift said redhead over his head with one hand.  “And may I remind you, you’re the one who dragged me here.  I didn’t want to come.”

“If I’d known your terrible taste would ruin it, I would have brought Steve.”

“Steve would have gotten into at least three fights by now.”

“True,” Pietro agreed.  “Just keep your bad taste to yourself.  I want to enjoy this.”

 

* * *

 

Tony somehow managed to make it through the entire show without messing up, despite knowing that Bucky was watching him the entire time.  By final curtain, he was more of a wreck over that than opening night.  He stumbled back to the locker room and sat heavily on the first bench that presented itself.

“Was that the infamous 4E next to Wanda’s twin?” Natasha asked, sitting next to him with much more grace.

Tony groaned in a way he knew Natasha would understand as a yes, not wanting to bother with actual words just yet.

Natasha hummed, pulling the pins out of her hair and shaking it loose.  “I can see why you nearly dropped me.  I’ll forgive you this time.”

“You’re too lenient with me,” Tony told her, grinning.  “You know how uppity us spoiled rich omegas get if you go easy on us.”

Natasha snorted indelicately.  She could get away with that, being an alpha and all.  Just like with Pepper, Tony lamented the fact that it would never work between him and Natasha; they’d be a good match if he had any interest in women, or she had any in omegas.  “Masochist.”

“I’m a ballerina,” Tony reminded her, laughing.  “Masochism is kind of a job requirement.”

“What is this about masochism?” Wanda asked, stepping out of the showers with her hair in a damp dark cloud around her shoulders and a towel wrapped haphazardly around her.

“Tony’s crushing on the guy who came with your brother and also wants me to punish him,” Natasha reported.

Wanda considered that for a minute, looking Tony up and down, then shrugged.  “I suppose Bucky could do worse,” she admitted, breezing past to her locker.

“That sounded perilously close to a compliment, Maximoff,” Tony said.  “Are you feeling okay?”

Wanda tossed a lofty look over her shoulder, but otherwise ignored him while she dressed.  While she’d moved away from her initial impression of Tony as a spoiled rich kid who was only in the company because his daddy knew one of the company’s assistant directors, he and Wanda still didn’t get along very well.  She was a very serious beta who’d had to grow up young when her parents died, and she thought Tony was immature, feckless, and too relaxed about his career.  She also probably resented the fact that the roles she got were limited by her inability to hide her disdain for Tony when they danced together.  At least Janet made a virtue of necessity and usually cast them in roles that would be antagonistic, anyway.

Tony shrugged and went back to getting dressed himself.  He respected Wanda as a dancer and she tolerated his general existence these days; that was enough for him.

 

* * *

 

Natalia Romanova was, according to many, a cold person.  The very picture of an ice queen prima ballerina.  She cared for no one but herself, nothing but her career.

In a way, they were right.  Natalia Romanova was as much a role as any she danced on stage, a fiction of herself designed to keep others away from Natasha Romanov, the real and vulnerable person she actually was inside.

Natalia Romanova waited in a gym bag of slippers and bandages in the back seat of her car, to be put on when it was time to be her again.  Natasha Romanov pulled the wide brim of her sunhat so that it shielded her eyes better and strode into a cafe she’d never been to before as if she visited it every day.

Natasha had been born an only child, with no cousins or close family and precious few friends even before she took to dancing, but she was dead certain that Tony Stark was her little brother in everything but blood and name.  When 4E had been a harmless infatuation that would never be acted upon, it was cute and could be indulged.  Now that 4E - Bucky Barnes - was realistically within Tony’s reach…

That meant it was time for big sister to do some spying.

She bought a pastry and a bottle of juice - neither tea nor coffee were ever properly made in America - and wandered between the tables, breezing right past the one where Barnes sat as though she had no interest in him at all.

She sat at a small table beside a tall stand of teas and ground coffees, where there was no direct line of sight, but she could see Barnes reflected in the large windows and hear him just fine.  She took off her hat and set it and her purse aside, settling in to wait.

Barnes was alone for another minute or two before someone joined him.  The person was rather small and looked delicate in the reflection.

“Hey, Buck,” the person said, sitting down in the chair next to Barnes.  “How was the ballet?”

Barnes groaned, slumping against the table.  “Did you know,” he asked in a despairing voice, “that Tony’s a _ballerina_?  That he can throw people over his head and probably jump over me if he got a good running start?  Did you know that I spent two hours yesterday staring at quite possibly the love of my life in tights and drooling all over myself?”

The other person laughed, without a hint of sympathy.  “I can’t wait to tell Thor.  We’re never letting you live this down.”

“When did you become so cruel, Stevie?  What happened to you?”

“You,” Stevie answered cheerfully as someone else joined them.  This person was even bigger than Barnes and sat on Stevie’s other side, kissing him.  Whatever Stevie was to Barnes, he was probably not a lover.

Stevie and the newcomer spent several minutes teasing Barnes over what sounded like a long-standing fascination with Tony.  Two more men joined the table and the teasing both.  Eavesdropping shamelessly, Natasha learned a great deal about this man who apparently wanted her little brother as much as Tony wanted him.  It was always a good idea to have blackmail material, after all, and the banter was genuinely entertaining.  So entertaining, in fact, that she completely lost track of time until her phone buzzed, notifying her of a text from Tony demanding to know where she was and drawing her attention to the fact that she was going to be late if she didn’t hurry.

She abandoned her pastry, still only half eaten, and swung her bag up onto her shoulder as she stood and turned toward the door.  The momentum dragged her further to the side than she’d wanted, ramming her shoulder into the tea display.  The whole thing teetered a moment before falling almost gracefully all over one of Barnes’s companions, who squawked not unlike a started parrot.

“ _Prastitye, prastitye!_ ” she apologized hastily, torn between making sure he was alright and running away before any of them got a good enough look to remember her later.

Then he looked up, and all thought of leaving flew right out of her mind.

He was, quite possibly, the most gorgeous alpha she had ever seen, with warm brown skin and deep dark eyes she could very easily fall into and never leave, and the sight of him brought unaccustomed heat to her cheeks and fluttering to her insides.

She didn’t know how many seconds ticked by with her just staring like a fool before he cleared his throat.  “You okay?”

Natasha’s cheeks heated up further, surely as flaming red as her hair by now.  “ _Ya_ \- I- yes!  Yes, I fine, I-” she hadn’t stumbled this much over English since she was sixteen.  She could never again tease Tony over his lovestruck ways.  “I have- I need to go good-bye!”

While the entire cafe stared - probably dumbstruck by her clumsiness - she made her escape.

It wasn’t until she arrived at the theater, slightly out of breath and 90 seconds shy of late, that she realized she’d forgotten her hat.

 

* * *

 

“What,” Sam asked in the silence of the cafe, still covered in packets of tea, “was that?”

Bucky snorted into the coffee he’d managed to save from the destruction.  “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen in weeks,” he said.  “She’s a lot different onstage.”

“What?” Sam repeated, starting to pull teabags out of his clothes.  “Who was she?”

“Her name’s Natalia Romanova,” Bucky said.  “Remember how Pietro dragged me to the ballet last night?” Sam nodded, sighing as he fished two teabags out of his latte.  “She was in the show.  Pretty sure she was the main character.”

“You’re kidding,” Clint said.  “No way a person that clumsy’s a ballerina.”

Bucky shrugged.  “I could be wrong.  I’m not, but it’s always possible.”

“She’s pretty enough to be a ballerina,” Sam blurted, immediately regretting it when everyone stopped to stare at him.  Thank goodness he didn’t show blushes as well as Bucky.  “What?  She is!”

Steve, who’d gotten up to get the teabags scattered all over the floor, stepped back up to the table with a floppy black sunhat in his hands.  “She left this,” he reported.  “Tag says N. Romanov.”

“It’s not exactly a glass slipper, but it’ll do,” Clint said, grinning.

“Why am I friends with you assholes again?” Sam demanded, making the entire group burst out laughing.

He did take the hat, though.  Ballet tickets probably weren’t all that expensive, and she’d probably appreciate getting her hat back.

 

* * *

 

Bucky wasn’t there when Sam gave Natalia back her hat.  Steve reported it was adorable.  Thor wanted to compose a song about it.  Bucky also wasn’t there a few days later when ‘the omega of my fucking _dreams_ , man’ punched some asshole who was giving Clint shit over his hearing aids.  Sam thought it was too cliche not to love.  Thor did compose a song about it.

Bucky kept missing his friends meeting the loves of their stupid lives because he was too busy meeting with the love of _his_ stupid life and lamenting that it was never going to go anywhere between them.

 

* * *

 

Tony came very, very close to paying off the rest of Bucky’s lease and also stealing his mail so he could pay off Tiny Roomie’s medical bills, too, but Bruce and Pepper managed to talk him out of it.  Not the way to woo someone normal.  And it was going to take some heavy-duty wooing to get Bucky interested in him as anything but a mildly annoying acquaintance, he was pretty sure.

Bruce, the traitor, was no help because he’d run into his soulmate and was prioritizing being disgustingly content over helping Tony sort out the dumpster fire he called a love life.  Pepper wasn’t much help, either, even without the distraction of a crush of her own.

Tony’s friends were useless.

 

* * *

 

Bucky kept going to Tony’s shows, whenever the band didn’t have a gig, hiding off to the side to keep Tony from spotting him behaving like a goddamn stalker.  Even though Sam’s new girlfriend Natasha (calling her Natalia was apparently taking your life into your own hands) swore Tony wouldn’t turn him down if he’d just ask the guy out, Bucky wasn’t quite ready.  He needed a bit more preparation and a venue that wasn’t a theater full of strangers.

Saying so to Natasha was a mistake.  He didn’t realize it was until Natasha informed him that Tony was going to be practicing alone for a few hours, and if he didn’t take advantage of that she was going to skin him alive.

Which was how he found himself slinking down the hall to the studio doors, just in time to watch someone who was definitely _not_ Tony open them and step inside.

 

* * *

 

Tony had been practicing just long enough to work up a good sweat when the studio door opened.  He wasn’t positioned so he could see the door, but he recognized the heavy footsteps moving toward him.

“What do you want, Rumlow?”

Brock laughed, like he always had when he thought Tony was being a silly emotional omega.  “What, I can’t just want to see you?”

“Not after you threatened to kill me if I broke up with you, no.”

“You know I didn’t mean it,” Brock said.  “You broke up with me, and I didn’t kill you.  Didn’t even try.”

Tony rolled his eyes, turning around and crossing his arms over his chest.  “I’m sorry, is a _lack of attempted murder_ the only argument you can make for yourself?”

Brock sighed, rolling his eyes.  “You’re twisting things again.  Why are you so difficult?”

“I’m being a rational human being with common sense,” Tony said as evenly as he could manage.  “What do you want?”

“To spend a little time together.  Reconnect, if you know what I mean.”

“Pretty sure I don’t want to.  Get out before I call security.”

“Come on, babe, don’t be that way,” Brock said, backing Tony right up against the wall and grabbing the barre on either side of him to keep him from escaping.  “  Let me watch a bit.  You know I always liked your dancing.”

“Then why did you never come to a single one of my shows, even when I offered you tickets or it was fucking free?”

Brock growled, switching his grip from the barre to Tony’s arms and squeezing.  Tony marveled a little at the fact he’d ever found this possessive asshole attractive.  “You’re so _needy_.”

“Wanting someone who appreciates my biggest passion in even the most indirect way isn’t _needy_ , you controlling fuckface,” Tony spat, yanking his arms free.  Brock responded by grabbing Tony’s shoulders, pushing him against the mirror so the barre dug into his lower back, and kissing him hard.

Neither of them noticed Bucky slipping away from the door seconds before Tony shoved Brock back and punched him in the face.

 

* * *

 

Bucky spent the next few days giving considerable serious thought to taking up drinking.  He’d always kind of figured there was no way Tony would feel the same about him, and he’d been ready to accept that, but being passed over for _Brock Rumlow_?  The thought actually drove him into a couple of bars, though he always left before he could actually order anything.

He kept going to Tony’s shows, though.  Because he loved pain and misery.

He maintained an air of gloom and despondency for a solid week before Tony ambushed him outside the elevator in their apartment building.

“Natasha says you like me,” Tony said by way of greeting.  “Is that true?”

Bucky, caught off guard, just stared at him for a minute.

“Well?  Is it?”

“Yes,” Bucky blurted before he could think better of it.  “But I’m not going to turn into a crazy stalker or anything.  You don’t like me back and that’s fine, okay.  I’m not going to get in the way of you getting back together with Rumlow.”

It was Tony’s turn to stare.  “Why the hell would I be getting back with that sleazeball when I’m in love with _you_?”

“What?”

Tony ran both hands through his hair, shaking his head.  “Literally nobody I have ever met is going to believe I’m being the mature one doing the communicating here,” he said, almost as an aside.  “And I repeat: why would I be getting back together with Rumlow when I’m in love with you?”

“But I saw you.  Yesterday, in the studio, I saw you kissing him.”

“No, you saw _him_ kissing _me_ .  Entirely against my will.  And in true cliche rom-com fashion, I’m guessing you didn’t stick around to see me punch his lights out.  Mistress van Dyne was _not_ happy about the blood on the studio floor.”

“Oh,” Bucky said, for lack of a better response.  “So… whose life is the rom-com, yours or mine?”

“Yours,” Tony said immediately.  “Ballet would be a lot more romanticized if it were mine.”

Bucky couldn’t help a short laugh in response to that.  If he’d learned nothing else during this venture, he’d at least learned that ballet was _brutal_ in real life.  “True.  What usually comes after the dramatic love confession?”

“The Big Damn Kiss.  Sound good?”

Bucky barely had time to nod before Tony grabbed the front of his shirt in both hands and yanked him down far enough to plant one hell of a first kiss on him that left no doubt about his feelings here.

Bucky, kissed him right back, unable to keep a slow grin from breaking out on his face.  He couldn’t even resent the fact that he owed all of this indirectly to Brock Rumlow.

 

* * *

 

 

Ana had her kittens with absolutely no trouble, all over Bucky’s favorite sweater.  Bucky managed not to be too mad, since that was the same day Tony announced _he_ was pregnant now, so the day kind of evened out.

**Author's Note:**

> The ballet Tony and co. put on is based on a well-known fairy tale I completely made up called _The Raven's Daughter_. Nat does indeed play the titular daughter, who is sent to seduce and kill the prince (played by Tony) so her father can steal his kingdom. She winds up falling in love with him instead, so the raven sends a swan (Wanda) to kill them both, promising the swan her freedom if she succeeds. The swan isn't strong enough to kill them herself and fails to turn them against each other. Enter the raven, muttering to himself about what to do when you want something done right and other such adages, and gravely injures the prince. The raven's daughter is distraught, and the strength of her emotions convinces the swan to switch sides. Together they defeat the raven, freeing the swan and leaving the way clear for the daughter's happily ever after with her prince. It's all terribly romantic.
> 
> Also the raven is played by Scott Lang. Not even Jan is entirely sure what happened there.


End file.
